


Second Chances

by Madam_Wigglesworth



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Second Chances, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Wigglesworth/pseuds/Madam_Wigglesworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't get everything right the first time. All you need is a second chance. Sven/Romelle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

Moving slowly through the broad corridors of the castle, Romelle allowed herself to be lost in thought, ignoring the beams of sunlight that shone through the windows and moved across her eyes. She had too much to think about and consider to be bothered by something as minor as irritating sunlight. She played with the hem of her dress nervously, and wondered if Sven would be up yet, or if he’d try to find her.

Sven. She sighed and closed her eyes. She’d left him sleeping in his bed shortly before dawn, trying hard not to stare at the skin she’d so briefly indulged in the night before. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper by any means - for as long as she’d known him, he’d slept as lightly as she’d known anyone to, awake at the smallest noise that had echoed through the caves on planet Doom. To be able to dress and escape without him noticing was a small miracle in and of itself.

_Escape? Is that what I’ve done? Sven isn’t a monster. He wasn’t anything of the sort last night and you know it._

Shame enveloped her at the thought. For the first time in their relationship, as long and dragged out as it had been at her own insistence, she’d finally gone to him saying she was ready. Sven had been everything she needed in a man after the traumatizing events that took place with Lotor, and his patience was well worth a reward. He’d kissed her so gently when she surprised him at his door, standing as confidently as she’d felt at the time, walking slowly as he guided her into his room and to his bed. _Are you sure?_ he’d asked, cupping her face in his hands, and when she’d said yes, she really had thought so.

_So what had gone wrong?_

Romelle stared out the passing windows to the bright sunlit day. She knew what had gone wrong. She’d done it so many times with Lotor that it had become a gut reaction, kicking in when she didn’t even plan on letting it. She’d hidden within herself, going through the motions and responding when spoken to, but otherwise hadn’t been a participant.

She was certain Sven had been the most tender and considerate lover she’d ever had. In her mind’s eye, it was the greatest sexual experience she’d ever had in her life.

She didn’t remember a moment of it.

The feeling was horrible. She had truly felt she was ready. Sven was the one man she trusted above all others (besides Bandor) and his character only amplified her affection for him. This was the same man who’d kissed her so gently and lightly the first time she’d wondered if the experience had been her imagination. He’d held her hand or let it rest in the crook of his elbow everywhere they’d gone, never afraid to show his feelings for her. He helped her learn to laugh at the little things, held her when a memory was particularly harsh, and smiled at her randomly throughout the day. He said anything and everything in Norwegian for her simply because she loved the way it sounded, and how he had such strong control over his native language.

Romelle stopped at a window, staring absently at the plains below, trying to gather her thoughts. She’d stepped into his room, and he’d asked her if she was ready. She’d said yes, he looked at her in a way she’d never seen before, smiled so gently she’d felt weak in the knees, then… he’d kissed her, she remembered. It was so long and lazy and perfect she’d almost gotten impatient with it. And then…

Had he reached for her robe next? Or had she really gotten that good at pulling herself out of the moment she didn’t even know when it happened? She felt tears come to her eyes, her misery almost unbearable. Would she always be like this?

“Romelle?”

His voice shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. She knew he’d come looking for her the moment he saw her missing. She stood and looked at Sven, taking in the bed clothes he’d hastily thrown on and his messy hair. Had she done that at some point? A lump formed in her throat.

“ _Kjaereste_ , what’s wrong?” he stepped forward, reaching out for her. When she pulled back, the hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable.

“I can’t…” Her voice was thick and heavy. Romelle cleared her throat, swallowing back the sob she’d been so ready to release moments earlier. “Sven, I… I need some time to myself right now.”

He took a quick look down the hall and spoke quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Sven, please.” She took a step back, hating how hesitant and slightly afraid she felt. “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later.”

Not waiting another moment, she hurried down the hall. Sven didn’t follow. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or heartbroken.

  


It was very easy to determine that the most miserable day she’d had since returning from Doom was this one. In all the time she knew him, she couldn’t recall a single day where she willingly hid from Sven, yet she found herself dodging places she knew he would be, eventually hiding in her room and locking her door. All of her documents to look over for the day were brought to the small desk she had inside. She got more work done that afternoon than she had in months.

She hated it. Certain her work was sloppy and distracted, she’d requested a maid to bring her some tea to ease her mind. After several minutes of trying to focus at the document before her and not think about how hurt Sven looked that morning, there was a light knock on the door.

“I left it open for you Marie,” she called out, rereading the first paragraph again.

The tray was set on the corner of the desk. The hands holding it stilled for a moment… hands which were obviously bigger and more masculine than Marie’s. Romelle dropped the pen she was holding and leaned back in her chair. Sven stood before her, looking at her nervously.

“Romelle,” he said quietly. “We need to talk about last night.”

She knew he’d find her. It didn’t surprise her that he’d come to her so quickly. Sven was never one to let issues linger between the two of them. He always wanted misconceptions to be taken care of as soon as possible. That dated all the way back to the caves, when her distrust of him was at its highest. She learned to trust him quickly. He always wanted the best for her.

It was probably why she’d left the door unlocked.

She nodded, looking at the tea and two cups he’d brought with him. Sven crouched before her, taking her hands in his and holding them gingerly. The sincerity in his eyes was overwhelming. “I’m not sure what’s happened, or what I’ve done… but if I did anything to hurt you last night, anything at all, I’m so sorry.”

_Sorry? He thinks he…_

Romelle did the last thing she expected to do.

She burst into tears.

“ _Elskede_ ,” he pleaded, getting on his knees and pulling her close. “Please talk to me. I don’t want you to be scared.”

“It’s not you,” she whimpered, holding him tightly. “Oh Sven, it isn’t you at all…”

“It’s something,” he insisted, rubbing her back. “Please tell me. I won’t be upset. I just want to know so I can help.”

Somehow that made it worse. He held her through her sobs, telling her everything would be alright, that he just wanted to know… dread filled her at the thought of his reaction, but he deserved to know. He’d never treated her wrong before, and there was little to suggest he’d do so now. She pulled back, staring at him through strands of hair that had fallen out of her braid when he crushed her to him. Sven looked terrified while he brushed them away, cupping her face in his hands like he’d done the night before. “What have I done, Romelle? Please tell me.”

“It isn’t you,” she said, clearing her voice. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing? Romelle, I waited forever to make love to you and the morning after you’re gone and hiding from me. That doesn’t tell me I did nothing wrong.”

“I swear to you, you did nothing wrong.” She covered his hands with hers, gripping them tightly. “Sven…” She swallowed, gathering her courage. “... I hid myself.”

Sven went from terrified to confused in a split second. “You hid? I don’t...”

Romelle took a deep breath. He brushed away fresh tears. “When I was in the harem, it was explained to me that a method of survival with Lotor was to hide within yourself. It takes you out of the moment… you can move and react when spoken to, but… if you get really good at it, you don’t remember what happened.” His eyes widened. All traces of confusion melted away. “I was his favorite.” She choked on the word. “So I had many opportunities to practice. It became a… what’s that expression you’ve used… a knee-jerk reaction. Lotor did many things to me, but I hardly remember any of them because I hid.” She closed her eyes, ashamed and embarrassed. “That’s what happened last night.”

If possible, Sven held her closer, talking to her in Norwegian and the common tongue, babbling that he loved her, that everything was okay, he was happy he told her and how sorry he was she even knew how to do that. When he pulled back he held her face again. He spoke low and gently. “ _Kjaereste_ , you told me you were ready. You know I would have waited if you needed more time.”

“I _am_ ready. Don’t you see? You didn’t do anything wrong! You were perfect and I…” Her face crumbled, ready to break down again. “I reacted the only way I know how.”

“It won’t be ‘the only way’ forever,” he promised, taking one of her hands and kissing it. “You’ve grown so much since I first met you, _min Romelle._ This is just another obstacle. You’re very good at breaking those down.”

Despite her lingering embarrassment, she couldn’t help but grin a little. “And the way to break those barriers is to chip away at it.”

He caught on to her meaning quickly. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye when he smiled and said, “I’m really going to enjoy working through this one.”

Laughter erased the last of her worries. His smile was tender, hinting at things to come. He caressed her hand with his thumb. “You’re sure you were ready? We didn’t move too fast, or…”

“I’m sure.” She looked him right in the eyes. “I do desire you, Sven. Greatly. I’m sorry our…” She sighed, the weight of her words hitting her suddenly. “I’m sorry I ruined it.”

To her surprise, he scoffed. “A lot of people have terrible first times. Mine wasn’t anything memorable.” He looked at her a moment, allowing the hidden meaning to sink in for her. “Don’t look at it like that, though.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “Look at it the best way, the realistic way - we get a second chance.” He paused. “I certainly hope there’s a second chance.”

He was trying to make her laugh. It worked. “That’s the only way to get through it, right?”

“What do you suggest, then?” He lifted her hand and took his time kissing it, nipping the skin of her wrist very gently. “Do you want to wait?”

“No,” she said quickly, her own honesty surprising her. “I’m as certain as I was last night.”

He had that look in his eyes again, the same one he gave her when she came to him the night before. “Then we’ll try again.” He stood and helped her out of her chair. When she took a step towards her bed, he put a hand on her waist and turned her toward her personal bath chambers.

“The bath?” she asked. “I thought…”

“We will,” he said quietly, opening the door and turning a knob. “I want to spoil you first.”

Romelle looked at the hot water running into the large bathtub, then turned to Sven. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s unfortunate.” His voice was kind, hovering on the low timbre that made her shiver. “You know the basics. That much we well know.” He reached into her hair and gently pulled out the tie holding the braid together, running his hands through it. “There’s more than one way to love someone, Romelle. I hope I’ve shown you a little.” He brought his face close, brushing her nose with his. “I hope to show you much more.”

She shivered, dizzy all of a sudden. He kissed her the way he had the night before, long, lazy and endless, slowly driving her mad. When he pulled back, he was grinning. Steam covered the walls and hung thick in the air around them. “Now I’m going to go in that corner and give you a little privacy. You get in. I’ll follow shortly.”

She frowned at him. “Privacy?”

He winked and walked to the farthest corner of the room, reaching for his boots and taking them off, never once facing her. She stared a moment, watching him slowly remove his clothing, puzzled at how this had anything to do with loving someone. Instinctively, she reached to shut the door.

Understanding dawned as the lock clicked into place. He’d left the door open. He was facing away from her, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

He was giving her an out.

She felt her heart would burst at any second. His boots and socks were sitting in the corner, joined shortly by his shirt. He paused. “Romelle?” he asked quietly.

She hoped the lump in her throat wouldn’t be too noticeable when she answered, “I’m here.”

He didn’t respond, but she noticed his shoulders seemed to relax more. He untucked his undershirt and haphazardly folded it, laying it on top of his boots. As he reached for his belt, she hurried through her own clothing, grabbing a hair tie she’d discarded at some point in the past and tied her hair into a messy bun. When the last of her undergarments joined her clothes, he’d already stripped to his boxers. He waited, arms hanging by his side, while she stepped into the water, eventually reaching for the other knob to cool the temperature.

“Are you in?”

“Yes,” she winced at how small her voice seemed. Suddenly recalling he planned to join her, she shifted to the front of the tub, staring at the tiles. Her face flushed, but it had little to do with the warmth of the water.

“Make some room, if you would.” She heard the slight snap of elastic. A moment later his shadow fell over her. “Still okay?”

“Nervous,” she answered honestly, feeling little reason to be otherwise.

“Don’t be.” The water shifted around her. His toes briefly poked into her back. “If this is as far as we get, I’m not complaining.” His legs appeared on either side of her. She froze, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Come here,” he encouraged. “Lean against me.”

Sven shifted while she moved backwards in the water. When her back met his chest, she stopped, feeling wooden and uneasy. Sven wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, breathing deeply. She closed her eyes, feeling him, trying to stay with him.

“Still with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. _But I don’t know for how long._

“Hey…”

She turned to look at him. His eyes were warm, his smile more-so, and he leaned in and kissed her gently. When he pulled back, he looked at her carefully, gauging her expression. “May I look at you?”

It wasn’t until he asked that she realized she’d wrapped her arms around her chest at some point. His were over hers, but his fingertips gently trailed over them, coaxing. Trembling, she slowly lowered them, resting her hands on his thighs. He never broke her gaze while pulling his arms back, hands resting on her upper arms. Slowly, deliberately, his eyes moved from her face to her body, gazing at her flesh in a way she’d never seen before. He stared at her breasts, looking intently at each one, before running his eyes over her legs. He reached out a hand and gently trailed his fingers along the outside of her thigh, giving her goosebumps.

“Sven?” she whispered, fighting to stay with him, wishing he’d say anything to keep her grounded.

“ _Elskede_ … you’re beautiful.” He looked her in the eyes, smiling a bit. “I always knew you would be.”

She blushed, feeling tremendously self-conscious. Beautiful was a word she never associated with herself after her time spent with Lotor. Her body was covered in various scars from his aggression, some light, others too large and angry to ignore. To hear those words from him seemed too good to be true. She looked away, staring at her toes.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I know.” The brush of his fingertips gave way to the full caress of his hand. “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

She swallowed and nodded, unsure if she could trust her own voice.

“They’re not the most attractive feet in the world, but they get the job done,” he said, wiggling his toes. She laughed, but her nerves were obvious. “Stay with me, Romelle. What do I do?” He brought an arm around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “How do I help you?”

“Talk to me,” she said suddenly, realizing she’d been clinging to his voice the entire time.

He kissed her shoulder. “About what?”

“Anything,” she blurted, stumbling over her own thoughts. “What I can understand or in your own tongue… it doesn’t matter. Maybe all I need is to focus on you.”

“I certainly hope you’re focusing on me,” he said lightly, letting his fingers move across her skin. “If you’re not, I’m not doing my job right.”

She turned to him. “Sven…”

“ _Jeg vet hva du mener, elskling_ ,” he whispered, bringing his lips to her ear and nuzzling her skin. He pressed gentle kisses beneath her ear, knowing she was sensitive there. He heard her gasp, breathing shakily, and pulled back in time to see her eyes flutter closed. "May I touch you?"

This was the part she feared the most. Sven watched her expression change almost instantly. " _Du trenger bare å si ordet. Enten du vil at jeg skal eller ikke ... det er opp til deg._ " She felt his fingers drift lightly over her shoulder, gently caressing the skin. Goosebumps covered her flesh. She took her time gathering what strength she felt she had left before she slowly nodded. She couldn't help it - fresh tears fell as she did so.

" _Ikke gråt, min Romelle_ ,” he said tenderly, brushing the tears away with his fingertips. " _Ikke gråt. Du har ingenting å frykte._ " The words rumbled in her ear, making her shudder. She let out a deep, shaky breath, waiting, hoping...

His fingers caressed the curve of her hip first, the barely-there contact agonizing in more ways than one. Slowly, almost teasing her, he settled his palm against the curve of her waist, raising it to her ribs and back down to her hip. Romelle focused on the contact and the way his breathing seemed to change slightly, wondering what he was thinking.

Then his hand shifted, and his fingers briefly caressed the swell of her breast. If possible, she stilled even further.

"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered. Very slowly, the brush of his fingers gave way to his hand. He cupped her breast, simply holding it, refusing to do otherwise until she let him. " _Du er veldig myk og varm. Jeg har drømt om å holde deg sånn._ "

His words were accentuated with a kiss. Romelle lowered her eyes, staring as his large hand started to gently massage her breast. He never squeezed painfully, or dug his nails into her skin like Lotor would so often do. He seemed to indulge himself in holding her, shifting his hand just the slightest so that his thumb brushed her nipple and...

She gasped slightly. The feeling wasn't painful, but...

"There's the reaction I was looking for," he said almost playfully. She could hear the smile in his voice. Her nipple puckered under his thumb, sending smaller, but consistent thrills through her. It had _never_ felt like this before. He lifted his free hand to massage her left breast, gingerly moving. She trembled, but this time felt it had little to do with nerves.

His lips moved from her shoulder to her neck, moving upward to tug on her earlobe. There was the barest of growls from low in his throat, which surprised her how much more arousing than terrifying it was. Her hands gripped his thighs even tighter.

"Too much?" he breathed.

Romelle could have laughed if she didn't feel so overwhelmed. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "It feels like a hundred things at once."

" _Hvis dette føles som hundre ting på en gang, er du aldri kommer til å vare min Et spill_ ," he chuckled, thankful she couldn't understand him. "I'll keep going. You tell me when to stop."

She nodded, unsure what else she could really do. As one hand continued to tease her nipple, the other traveled down her side to her thigh, rubbing and caressing all the skin he could reach. She squirmed a bit, unsure what she should with herself or how she was expected to behave. Half of what he was doing made her want to release the small noises building in the back of her throat. She wanted to writhe, to ease into him… was it okay to respond like that?

Her thoughts were disrupted immediately when he lightly dragged his nails across her hips. She released her grip on his thighs, placing her hands on either side of the tub. “Stop…!”

His hands were gone instantly, out where she could see them. “What is it?”

“No… no nails,” she said, suddenly feeling small. “No nails, no teeth.”

“That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine.” His hands slowly moved back to her body, wrapping around her. “What else don’t you like?”

Romelle shook her head, fighting against memories that, until then, had been dormant. “I don’t know.” She searched for the words. “I don’t think I’ll really know until we get there.”

He kissed the back of her neck, trying to calm and reassure her. “Well, that’s not ideal, but… there are ways to work around it.”

She kept her eyes open, staring at the tiles just above her toes. “How?” Her voice was small and hesitant. She cleared her throat.

He kissed from one shoulder to the other, dragging his lips across her neck as he did so. “You have to talk to me, _kjaereste_. Tell me what you do or don’t like, what feels good to you. I can’t read your mind.” He brushed his lips along her ear, saying just above a whisper, “Tell me.”

Romelle wondered how she was supposed to use coherent words when the things he was doing to her left her speechless. Shyly, she brought one of his hands back to her breast. “I… I-I liked what you were doing here… before…”

“Good,” he said lightly, leaning over her a bit to look at their joined hands. “I’m glad you did. What else?”

She looked down and brought his other hand back to her thigh, guiding him into the motion he was using before. “This. It was… comforting, somehow. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” He stretched his arm out as far as he could, gently caressing her knee. His fingers drifted back to her thigh. “Unless you have any objections, I’ll keep going.”

The way the words put a lump in her throat was irritating. She tried to take a deep breath, but she exhaled in a gasp when his thumb circled her nipple. He wasted little time repeating his actions from earlier, carefully watching her face as the rush of emotions hit her suddenly. His hand moved back to her hip and carefully moved inward, brushing along the curve of her thigh. “May I touch you?” he asked again.

Romelle swallowed thickly, wanting so badly to squirm, shudder, and release the hundreds of actions she was trying so carefully to contain. “Yes,” she whispered, wondering why he was asking again when he’d already been given permission.

The hand slowly, cautiously covered the skin low on her belly. It hovered for a moment, warming her, before his fingers slipped to her curls, gently moving between her legs. Romelle’s back straightened at the contact. Her eyes went wide. When he began to tenderly massage her, her mouth dropped open.

“How does that feel?” he whispered, and she realized suddenly he’d been watching her face the entire time.

She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it quickly when she released a whimper instead of words.

“That’s it. Just like that,” he encouraged, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “That’s how you tell me. Tell me more.”

With that, she let go of the moan she’d been holding onto for so long. Her head tilted backwards, mouth open, but her back stayed straight. She trembled as he continued to touch her, his gentle motion increasing at the sounds she made. She wanted to move against his hand, to shift a bit so it was easier for him to touch her… could she do that? Would he want her to do that? Thinking of it made her groan, but it was tinged with frustration.

Sven ripped his eyes from her body to her face. She was biting her lip every so often. She was stiff and trembling. “Relax, _kjaereste._ Don’t fight it. What does your body want to to?”

That was all it took. Romelle arched her back, leaning into the hand kneading her breast. When his fingers stroked her again, she moved her hips, desperate for more, bending one of her legs to try and give him more room… the fuller contact made her sigh loudly. Her head fell against his shoulder. “Sven…!”

“ _Gud, du er vakker_ ,” he groaned, alternating the movement of his fingers, captivated by the way she moved. She raised a hand to his hair, gripping it tightly, seemingly desperate to keep his face near hers. “ _Det er ok. Gi i. Jeg er rett her. Det er Sven._ ”

She rocked against his hand, realizing afterward she was also rocking against the hardness pressed against her. It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment what effect this would have on him, but to feel him in this way… she pressed against him, thoughts fading as his fingers moved faster, the pressure increasing deliciously. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, gripping his hair tighter, trying to savor every thrill he gave her before another took over, and another after that… it seemed too much, so overwhelming she wasn’t sure what was happening. “Sven… I-I don’t… what’s…” Her words faded on another moan, the pressure building almost unbearably.

“ _Jeg er rett her. Jeg har deg. Kroppen din vet hva du skal gjøre. Oh, Romelle. La gå, min Romelle._ ”

Her eyes opened.

_Romelle…_

She moaned his name, reaching her climax, fear, wonder, pleasure, his touch, his words all rolled into one sensation that made her dizzy. She pressed her forehead into his jaw, staring at his skin, overcome with wave after wave of pleasure that left her breathless. He continued to whisper to her, and she clung to his voice, to the strength of his accent, and the stroke of his hand keeping her in freefall. Once the feeling passed, her body went slack, her hand falling from his hair to rest on his shoulder. She panted, whimpering, while his arms moved around her tightly.

“Shh,” he whispered gently, cupping her head with one hand. “ _Du gjorde vakkert, Romelle. Det er ok. Bare pust, kjæreste._ ”

The words, unknown to her, slowly brought her back from the greatest of heights. His tenderness undid her, and she quietly sobbed.

“ _Oh, må du ikke gråte. Var det for mye?_ ” His hand tilted her chin. His eyes were wide and concerned, slightly hazy with desire. “ _Var det_ …” He stopped, swallowing thickly. “Was that too much?”

Romelle shook her head, leaning forward to rest against him. “Not at all.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Then why are you crying?”

She smiled through her tears, gazing at him wonderingly, the echos of the past dimming with the look in his eyes. “You said my name. No one has ever said my name.”

The admission wasn’t lost on him. His face was a flurry of emotion, changing from anger to compassion in an instant. He kissed her and smiled through his own set of tears. “I’ll say your name any time you want me to.”

“Every time,” she answered immediately, feeling a small rush at the thought of there being another time.

“As you wish.” He kissed her again simply because he could. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m not through with you yet.”

He shifted and stood from the tub. He was clearly not embarrassed at his own nakedness, but Romelle turned and stared at the wall. Giving him privacy felt like the right thing to do… but she couldn’t help her own curiosity as well. His shadow fell over her a moment later, broadened by the large towel he held in his hands. She turned to look at him, noting that he held it low enough that she could see he hadn’t covered himself. Silently, she stood and grabbed his arms for support. He leaned into her, wrapping the towel around her, and held her close. “Still okay?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, setting her head on his shoulder, enjoying the way he touched her. He stooped over and picked her up, grinning at her small shriek of surprise, and carried her back into her bedroom. The fire she’d set earlier had warmed the room while they were gone. It was cozy and nearly picturesque. She had moments to appreciate it before he lay her on the bed, staring at her with such desire that she almost felt intimidated.

“ _Min kjære Romelle…_ ” he whispered, removing the towel and tossing it somewhere near the foot of the bed. She stared at his face, feeling hers flush when she caught his nakedness peripherally. Slowly, he put a knee on the bed and moved toward her, bracing his weight on his arm and laying next to her. Such little contact was enough to make her heart race in anticipation.

“Will you do something for me?” His accent was thick when he spoke. She said nothing. “Turn around. Lay on your back.”

Despite her faith in him, she swallowed thickly. Some of the worst things Lotor had done to her had been while she was facing away from him, helpless to stop any of his advances or anything he’d use to break her. Trembling, she slowly turned, unable to stop a few tears that fell before she knew they were there. Once on her stomach, Sven reached out and took one of her hands in his. He kissed the back of it, caressing her wrist. “Remember to speak to me,” he reminded her, and the gentleness in his voice made her smile.

His fingertips drifted slowly from her wrist to her forearm. The touch was ticklish when he reached her elbow, but he continued his exploration, moving to her shoulders. Romelle involuntarily winced. He would undoubtedly know the scars were there, having seen them in the tub, but for him to touch them… it was acknowledging their existence. She buried her face a little deeper into the pillow, feeling ashamed.

He brushed his lips across her skin, breathing softly. He caressed a particular spot and kissed it, long and gentle, and she immediately knew he had found one of her scars. He didn’t linger long, moving to another and giving it the same treatment, before bringing his fingertips to her shoulders, letting them slide along her upper back. She shivered, the contact seductive and nowhere near enough. When they moved along her sides, he placed his palms flat against her. The warmth of his skin left a burning tail that made her shiver. She felt his weight shift to the back of the bed, his hands never leaving her. He pressed a kiss to her hip. The small sound felt amplified in the quiet room. The sensations drifted to her core.

Sven’s fingers curled along her hips and caressed her thighs. He paid attention to each leg, running his thumb along the muscles and gently massaging. She flinched when he reached a ticklish spot at her knee, and sighed when he gave similar treatment to her calves. Her earlier trembling had long given way to an aching need. The time he spent touching her was so wonderful it was almost agonizing.

He shifted again. He brought shivers down her spine when his fingertip caress moved upward along her thighs, lightly over her butt, and along her back. He settled his weight very gently against her, taking a hand on his and smothering her neck with kisses. “ _Så vakker ... Jeg kunne ta på deg for alltid._ ”

When had her breathing gotten so heavy? She squeezed his hand tightly, not sure how else she could respond with his weight on top of her. He squeezed back, gently grinding his hips against hers. “ _Gud, Romelle.”_

The contact didn’t frighten her like she thought it would. It only reminded her of his obvious need, now pressing into her side. She recalled the brief glimpses she’d caught of his manhood and pushed against him lightly. “Sven? May I…” He pulled away from her. She sat up and looked at him - while the lust in his eyes was obvious, she had his attention fully. His own breaths were quick and heavy. “May I touch you?”

The blue in his eyes seemed to deepen. “ _Hvis du insisterer_ .” The small grin he gave her was meant to be playful. Romelle was convinced she’d never seen anything so erotic. He turned and lay back on his side of the bed, staring intently at her face. When she shifted and curled next to him, he raised a hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into the caress, letting him ground her, reveling in the affection he gave. “ _Ikke føl at du må gjøre noe du ikke vil._ ”

She gave him a soft smile, wondering if he was aware she had no idea what he was saying. She looked away to stare at his chest, taking in the slight dusting of hair that covered it. She reached out and brushed her hand over them. They seemed to curl over her nails, the warmth emanating from him addicting. She leaned down and nuzzled her face against his skin, eventually holding him, feeling her heart burst with how patient he was being. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“ _Jeg har det bra_ ,” he whispered, rubbing her back.

The words rumbled in her ear. She never stopped touching him, running her hand over the muscles in his chest and upper abdomen, fascinated with the way they seemed to twitch in response. He suddenly sighed deeply. Romelle looked at him. He was staring at her intently, eyes hazy, but he grinned encouragingly at her. Gazing at him, she let her hand drift lower, running over the ridges of his abs and the soft hair that thickened until…

He gasped when she brushed against him. She reflexively pulled away, watching him carefully. “ _Vennligst ikke stoppe der_ ,” he panted, very gently pushing on her hand. She shyly reached down until her hand covered his length, finally gathering her courage to look at him. He was fully erect, twitching slightly under her hand, a bead of moisture already flowing from the tip. She curled her fingers around him and very lightly stroked him, wondering how something so hard could be so warm and soft at the same time.

He released a shuddering breath. “ _Vennligst holde det gående. Du gjør fantastisk._ ”

For a moment, she frowned. She wasn’t sure what else she should do outside of continuing what obviously felt good to him. Lotor had never allowed her to touch him (not that she would have wanted to) but there were a few moments where… her touch became lighter, wondering if Sven would willingly accept the treatment she’d been forced to give a rival. He certainly _seemed_ to enjoy what she was doing… and she was certain he’d stop her if she didn’t like it…

She moved lower on the bed. Sven’s breathing seemed to hitch when she very carefully raised his manhood. When she closed her lips around the tip, he moaned loudly. “ _Min Gud, Romelle! Sånn ... bare sånn! Det er det …_ ”

Romelle glanced up at him. His chest was heaving with his pants, eyes closed, hands gripping the sheets beside her so hard his knuckles were white. Experimentally, she took more of him in and brushed her tongue along his length. He moaned again, muttering in Norwegian, gingerly rocking his hips. She took that as a hint; she bobbed her head, taking in as much of him as she could handle, mystified by his reaction.

Suddenly he jerked sharply. “Romelle!”

Alarmed, she pulled back. The fluid spilled across his stomach while he gasped, blindly reaching for her. Romelle watched as his orgasm faded, strangely aroused by his reaction to something to simple. She hadn’t done very much. Would it always be like that for him?

His eyes opened. “ _Kjæreste_ ,” he breathed, reaching for her and kissing her deeply. “ _Du er fantastisk._ ”

She giggled, feeling hesitant all of a sudden. “Was that… acceptable?”

He laughed, his eyes as bright as she’d ever seen. “ _Mer enn akseptabelt. Føl deg fri til å gjøre det når du vil!”_ Still smiling, he stood from the bed and walked back into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a wet rag. The mess on his stomach was gone. He folded the rag into a square and set it on the furthest corner of the bed.

Romelle, still on her side, stared curiously. “Why did you bring that in here?”

The erotic grin returned. Never breaking eye contact, he slowly crawled on the bed towards her. “ _Du aner ikke hva du har gjort, Romelle. Du har dratt deg selv - Jeg er klar til å elske deg igjen ... og jeg mener å gjøre denne gangen sist._ ”

She leaned back against the pillows, staring at him while he brushed his nose against hers. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

He smiled, pressing his lips to hers. “Good.”

Her bafflement was short-lived when his skin slid smoothly over hers. Sven put his elbows on either side of her, focusing on kissing her deeply, hoping his added weight wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Romelle lay frozen for a moment, unsure of what she should do or how to respond. She finally wound her arms around his torso, feeling the warmth of his skin under her shaking hands.

“ _Er du ok?_ ” he asked quietly. “ _Du skjelver_.”

She stared at him for a long moment, deciding to nod because she wasn’t sure what else to do. He smiled tenderly and kissed her cheek, nuzzling against her a moment, before sliding down to her jaw. Long ago he’d discovered she loved attention to her neck and shoulders. She hummed happily when he spread kisses from one side to the other, taking his time, loving the skin he could reach. As his head drifted lower, Romelle opened her eyes and looked at him, suddenly realizing what he intended to do.

Sven paused, looking up at her, and slowly raised his hand. He brushed the underside of her breast, the same as he’d done in the tub, before cupping it entirely. It fit differently from this angle; the fuller contact made her sigh as he slowly massaged it. He grinned. “ _Akkurat sånn._ ”

She watched, frozen, as he dipped his head to her flesh, nuzzling and loving the skin around her nipple. She shuddered, realizing he was teasing her, intentionally not giving her the contact he’d done previously. She arched her back a bit, trying to get his attention. He smiled against her skin. “ _Veldig bra. Dere lærer_.”

She expected him to repeat his actions from earlier. Instead, his lips brushed, very lightly, over her nipple. The barely-there contact made her gasp. The nipple was pushed into his mouth, and he gently circled his lips around it. When she didn’t protest, he ran his tongue over the tip.

The thrill shot through her again, and this time she didn’t stop the small sound she’d fought so hard to hide the first time. Content with her response, Sven put his lips more firmly around her nipple, circling it with his tongue. She shuddered, arching her back. “Sven…”

His smile was all the answer she needed. Recalling his earlier encouragement, she threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place while he teased her. For a moment he simply held the nipple in his mouth. Then, quickly, he flicked his tongue against it. She squirmed beneath him, whimpering, aching for the release he’d given her earlier. His other hand trailed up her side and covered her other breast, kneading gently. When his fingertips brushed in time with the strokes of his tongue, she thought she’d go mad.

“ _Hva du vil ha?_ ” he whispered.

She fully relaxed, thinking he was instructing her to do so. Smiling, Sven gently suckled on her nipple. Romelle groaned, her hips bucking up against him. His hardness pressed against her. He exhaled heavily, gingerly grinding his hips against hers, feeling dizzy.

Romelle froze. “Sven…?”

He released her nipple with a soft ‘pop.’ She couldn’t stop the shudder, but maintained eye contact when he looked at her. “I-I don’t… I don’t know if I’m…” She put her hands on his hips, unsure how to explain that the most intimate act was the one she feared above others.

He grinned, nuzzling her breast comfortingly. “ _Det er greit. Vi er ikke der ennå_.” He kissed the nipples, taking one in for a teasing suckle, and shifted, bracing his weight on one arm and running his hand along her stomach. Romelle stared at his wandering hand, flinching a bit when he hit a ticklish spot. "I'm not ready to go that far yet."

She looked him in the eye, noting the small grin, the kindness on his face. The hand on her belly slid to her side. He shifted his weight, bringing his face to her hip, kissing the slender curves of her skin. Romelle watched, hypnotized, a vague idea forming of what he had planned. Anticipation shot through her, but it dulled as he kissed his way to the apex of her thighs.

Sven took her hand, slipping an arm under one leg. "Don't be scared," he whispered against her skin. Romelle only had a moment to register the rumble against her before he was kissing her there, and her breathing grew heavier as he took his time, moving from the top of her mound to her thighs and around again. He eventually settled.

She wasn't prepared for the rough texture of his tongue against her. The contact was light, hesitant, asking before taking. Her breath hitched. Sven squeezed her hand before licking again, though this time his tongue lingered, sliding through crevasses, exploring her. The sensation wasn't unpleasant. Once she was used to the feeling she relaxed more, feeling her face flush. He had to know what he was doing to her, how arousing the sensation was. Impulsively, she squirmed.

The movement of her hips brought his tongue in contact with her nub. It was a jolt to her system. She gasped.

Sven said nothing, but she saw his grin before he moved in further, capturing her, caressing her. It was wave on wave of heightened pleasure. Romelle moaned, gripping his hand tightly, already near a crest he'd brought her to previously. She reached out and grabbed his hair, clutching any part of him she could reach. Sven released her, teasing her with light brushes, and made eye contact. The heat in his eyes was memorizing.

"Speak to me."

He took her in his mouth again. It was far more intense than before, the contact heavier and dizzying. Romelle moaned his name, shifting her hips, gripping him tightly, the overwhelming pleasure fueled by the brush of his thumb over her hand, a tender caress. It was her undoing - she moaned long and loud, trembling, panting Sven's name as he guided her through another orgasm. She sighed, exhausted. Sven pulled away, and she watched as he grabbed the rag and wiped his face, tossing it near the edge of the bed. He settled against her, a brightness to his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

He reached forward and caressed her cheek, suddenly still. “ _Du er fortsatt med meg?_ ” he whispered, then shook his head slightly. “You’re still with me?”

“Yes,” she answered, exhilarated and tingling all at once, feeling sleepy. She reached up to take his hand, reveling in his touch, his caress. When she looked at him again, there was a slight hesitation in his eyes. He gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Would you like to try?” he whispered, his accent thick on the slow, purposeful words. He removed his hand from her cheek and placed it on her hip.

The spell she’d been under since he’d lead her to the bathroom was broken. Her eyes widened slightly, and her breathing deepened. She wasn’t naive - she knew that this was a bridge they’d eventually have to cross, and would probably have to several times before she was ever comfortable. That didn’t make it any less intimidating. She swallowed thickly, searching for an answer, as tears she didn’t feel building spilled from her eyes. Sven was there immediately, nuzzling her neck, kissing her shoulders, whispering to her. A sob built in her throat, but she held it in check, turning her face to his, desperate to see him. He raised his head and kissed her, gently, deeply, a silent request to stay with him, and she answered with everything she could. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the scars on his back, trying to focus on the way he breathed.

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing her cheek, her temple, holding her close. He pulled back enough to see her clearly. “What are you afraid of?”

Romelle blinked furiously, trying to focus on him through her tears. She didn’t answer until she could see him clearly, doing her best to calm down. He waited quietly, staring into her eyes. “It’ll hurt,” she choked out, repeating herself, feeling like she needed to be clear.

There was a strange look in his eyes that she didn’t understand, but it was gone moments later. He nuzzled her nose. “I don’t know if it will this time or not,” he whispered honestly. “But I can promise you it won’t last forever.”

 _It won’t last forever._ It seemed to be a theme. She remembered him saying it earlier in the evening. She moved a hand into his hair, forcing herself back into the present, resisting the temptation to hide.

Sven kissed an eyebrow, looking at her seriously. “What would you like me to do?”

Her fear screamed that she should tell him to back off, that they’d done enough and he should be happy he got that far. She took a deep breath. She was tired of living in fear. This was the last great hurdle in her recovery. If she didn’t take a step in a time when Sven was so understanding, so patient and kind, she didn’t know if she ever could. She released the breath through her mouth, but it shuddered. She felt small again when she answered, “Say my name.”

His small, erotic smile returned. She finally realized where his hands were, his fingers brushing against her skin comfortingly. “ _Min modig Romelle_ ,” he breathed, kissing her. He shifted to rest atop her, the groan from the bed alarmingly loud in her ears. She kept her eyes open, trained on him, her fingers moving across his bare skin. She had to stay here. She needed to stay with him, with Sven. He’d been wonderful and tender and slow. He wouldn’t force her. He’d go as far as she’d let him.

He shifted his weight, brushing his fingers across her lips. “ _Snakk til meg_ ,” he said slowly. “ _Snakk til meg_.” He said it intently, waiting for her to answer. She looked at him, entranced by the seriousness in his eyes, breathing against his fingers. She tried to fight against the image in her mind - she knew he wasn’t telling her to keep quiet, but she couldn’t help it. “Lips… don’t…?”

He shook his head slowly. His fingers trailed from her lips to her neck, down past her shoulders, to gently rub against her nipple. She gasped. His eyebrows raised slightly. “ _Ja det er det,_ ” he whispered, then said again, “ _Snakk til meg_.”

She knew what _ja_ meant, having heard him say it several times to her and himself. He’d said it after she’d gasped. A response.

_Talk to me. Tell me what you want._

“Speak to you?”

“ _Det er riktig_ ,” he smiled, reaching down to touch his lips to hers, the action not quite a kiss.

She nodded against him. She would, of course she would. She felt it was her only line of defense against him, a man she wouldn’t dare ever think to physically hurt, who’d done so much for her in slowly bringing her back to life. She felt tears well up again in her eyes. She wouldn’t think of him as something she needed to protect herself from. He wasn’t Lotor. He’d _never_ be Lotor.

She felt him settle against her, gently nudging her legs apart with a small motion of his hips. His hands he kept near her face, framing her, letting her know where they were at all times. She was still in control. They brushed away her fresh tears. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, but she wouldn’t lose him. Not now. He paused, looking at her.

“I’m scared,” she breathed, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. She had to touch him. She had to see that she _wanted_ to touch him.

“ _Jeg vet. Jeg vet du er redd. Jeg vil ikke skade deg._ ” Balancing himself on one arm, he reached between them and touched her, swallowing her gasp in his kiss. “May I love you?”

 _You’ve been doing that,_ she thought sharply, and immediately pushed it away. She would not respond in fear. She’d fight this. She would beat it. Her hand curled into his hair. “Yes,” she said, trying to sound confident, even if it died on a warble.

His eyes stayed on her even as he kissed her again. She felt the build, the ache from his touch, and tried to focus on that even as his body lined with hers. She thought of his warmth, the feel of his skin, how smooth and fine it was, even the scar tissue that lined his back. She drugged herself with his scent, the way he breathed, how eager _he_ seemed. She tried to draw on him as much as possible, to bury her entire being into Sven, the love of her life who was intent on loving her.

Her focus was fragile and she knew it. It shattered the moment she felt him press against her. She tried to steady her breathing, putting her hands on his chest, telling herself to follow how he breathed so calmly. He murmured against her jaw, keeping his eyes open and locked on hers. “ _Du er modig, Romelle. Du er den modigste personen jeg kjenner._ ” His lips hovered at the corner of her mouth, pressing against her nose, her cheek, her chin… he desperately wanted to kiss her, but doing so would prevent her from talking to him like she needed. Her hands held onto him tightly as he slowly entered her, and they both gasped for different reasons. “Romelle?” he urged.

“I…” She was shaking. It was impossible to hide with his body pressed against hers. “I’m here. I’m with you.” She raised a hand to cup his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. She wanted to say how scared she was, but he was already well aware. “I love you,” she said instead.

“ _Jeg elsker deg og,_ ” he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. He continued to enter her slowly, the stretch and ache bringing more tears to her eyes. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. “ _Min Gud, du er så varm. Du føler deg så bra, Romelle. Du føler deg så bra._ ”

She swallowed, turning her face to his. The more he moved, the more she ached. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. She moved her legs, desperate for relief. “It hurts,” she gasped, and the words felt like a whole new revelation to her.

His fingers changed their earlier rhythm. The pleasure he gave her was a strange combination with the pain she felt. “ _Det gjør vondt?_ ” He leaned over her, kissing her forehead, leading her to rest against the pillow. “ _Jeg beklager det gjør vondt. Det vil bli bedre. Jeg lover. Det er meg, Romelle. Det er Sven. Jeg er rett her._ ”

She watched him lean his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He was clearly holding himself back, control restrained against his fear of scaring her. She whimpered as he moved deeper. It didn’t seem to end. His back bowed just a bit. He looked at her, and their blue color was deeper than she’d ever seen them before. The small smile on his face faded immediately. “ _Jeg er ferdig. Jeg er helt i._ ” He cupped her face, catching her tears. “I’m right here,” he said, his accent strong.

“I can’t take more,” she whispered. She was barely hanging on to her composure. Her hands held him in a death grip.

“I’m in. I’m done. We’re…” he fumbled for the words, wanting to encourage her. “We’re together.”

The words brought a temporary relief. Romelle clung to them, closing her eyes, trying to feel _him_ more than the ache her body felt. _We’re together._ It didn’t have the magical effect she’d expected it to have. Would that come later? Had that been ruined for her, too? “Together,” she said, like she’d heard it for the first time and was trying it out.

He gave her a small smile. “We can’t get any closer than we are right now.”

She considered the position of his body, how his legs, torso, and arms touched every bit of her. They were flush against each other, and she noticed for the first time how hot his skin was. These were details she’d never gotten, nor wanted, with Lotor. He kept her as distant as possible. Sven felt like he was ready to melt into her, like he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her again, angling his mouth against hers. She noticed his breaths were deep and even. Was he trying to calm down, too?

“It’s not over yet,” she said when he pulled back.

He looked at her thoughtfully, a small frown etched in his features. “Are you ready?”

Romelle felt like she’d admitted her fear a million times. He _knew_ she was scared, but she needed to answer him honestly. “No.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But I think I’m never going to be truly ready, so I have to try.”

He smiled at her again, and this one she knew right away. He’d given it to her every time she made progress in her recovery - it was filled with pride. “Trying is a great place to start.” A shudder moved through her, but to her surprise, it made him moan quietly. He chuckled breathlessly, “I must admit, my brave Romelle…” He leaned over and brought his lips to her ear. “I enjoy being inside you.” He sighed. “You feel so good.”

His words were touching and discouraging all at once. She’d never known such an intimate compliment could thrill her so, but it also made her painfully aware that she wasn’t enjoying it as much as he was. His break had given her a chance to breathe, though, and she used it to restore her courage as much as possible. _My brave Romelle._ She would be brave as much as she could. She wrapped an arm over his shoulders, taking another deep breath. “Okay.”

He nodded against her, gently suckling on her earlobe. He gingerly started to pull out of her, slowly, and not too far, before pushing back in. She grunted, and against her will, her eyes clamped shut. She pressed her face against his.

“ _Snakk med meg_ ,” he groaned, pausing when he was fully buried, his body trembling. He pulled back and brushed his nose against hers. “Romelle?”

“I’m here,” she said, more to herself than to answer him. “I’m here. I’m here. It’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you, it’s you, it’s Sven.”

“ _Det er Sven._ ” He didn’t seem as aroused as he had moments ago. He was clearly worried. “I’m right here. It’s okay. It’s Sven.”

She didn’t ask him to stop, so he continued to move in slow, purposeful strokes, barely pulling out before he pushed back in. He eyed her cautiously, her wide eyes filling with tears again. He turned his head and kissed the fist clenched tightly by his face. “ _Jeg har deg. Du er ikke noe sted._ ” Her face began to crumple. She felt her lip wobbling. She was breaking. “ _Du bor her med meg. Det er ingenting å være redd for._ ”

She tried to breathe steadily. She really did. Romelle stared into his eyes until she couldn’t see them anymore, distorted by her tears. She tried to focus on his scent, but that was only making her dizzy. She was losing him. All she felt was the pressure between her legs, the ache that didn’t go away. She closed her eyes.

“Romelle?”

She’d lost. She felt small and stupid and utterly hopeless. The sobs she’d fought so hard against finally broke free. She covered her face in embarrassment. This time, when he inched out, he pulled out entirely, surprising her. She gasped loudly, the sob making it sound like it hurt more than it did.

Sven rolled off of her. She opened her eyes and reached for him. “No, please…! Don’t leave. I’m sorry.”

Romelle had moments to see the tears in his eyes before he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t know if you wanted some space.”

“Don’t go,” she sobbed, no longer able to fight it. “Please stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m right here. It’s me. It’s Sven. I’m not going to leave.” She felt him sigh, holding her tighter. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so brave.”

His words undid her. She wrapped an arm around his waist, the other barely under his chest, and cried into his shoulder. Her body shook, undone, her tears streaming down his arm and onto the comforter. He didn’t try to quiet or stop her. He held her through every sound that escaped her, kissing her, running a hand up her back while the other gently massaged her scalp. It was a method he’d used before when she broke into a panic attack, or clung to him when her memories were too powerful. It was a familiar comfort, desperately needed, but this time its magic took longer to work.

Romelle eventually pulled back just enough to see his skin soaked by her tears. “You’re not mad?” She asked, knowing full well he wasn’t.

“Oh, Romelle. No. Of course not.” He kissed the top of her head for a long time. His fingers gently lifted her chin. She hadn’t imagined it - he’d been crying, too. His eyes were red. “I’m not mad at all. I promise.” She nodded, sniffling loudly, the pressure behind her eyes slowly dissipating. He brushed the streaks of her tears away. “Are you okay?”

It seemed like a crazy question, but what other question could he have asked? She sighed, closing her eyes, feeling overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to hide.”

He looked at her, then down at their naked bodies. Pulling away from her, he sat up on his knees and worked the covers out from the bed, helping her maneuver so that they could get under them together. He pulled the sheet over their heads. “Is this okay?” He pulled her close again.

She clung to him. “It works.”

“I’m glad.” He leaned down and kissed her, long and lazy, like they had all the time in the world. “Sleep, _Min kjærlighet_. I’ll be right here.”

Romelle cuddled close to him, rubbing her cheek against his chest. She was so grateful for him, for who he was and how he loved her. It was her last clear thought before she fell into a deep sleep.

  


A deep yawn. A stretch. A few joints popped, she moved her hips to shift… and felt the uncomfortable ache anew. She frowned, opening her eyes, squinting against the sunlight spilling in from the curtains. The ache…?

Last night.

Sven.

She realized his scent was everywhere. She turned to look at him, and was met with his blue eyes already on her. His pillow was folded over, his head resting on it, and she realized he had a hand on the curve of her hip. He smiled, his eyes softening. He’d never looked at her that way before. “Hi,” she said shyly.

“ _God morgen_ ,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. He leaned in and kissed her. Why was this so… arousing? She didn’t question it. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. “You stayed.”

“So did you.”

He was still smiling at her when he tugged her hip towards him, bringing her to rest against his chest. She wrapped an arm around him, feeling weightless and like she was in a dream. “Stay here,” he whispered, “I want to hold you for a while.” He kissed the top of her head. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, feeling warm and safe. “How do you feel?” she asked, not really sure what she was supposed to say, if anything at all.

He chuckled, giving her a light squeeze. “I’m fine, but I should be asking _you_ that question.” He was quiet a moment. He shifted his head to look at her. “Romelle, are you alright?”

That wonderful, light feeling slipped through her fingers. She stared at his chest, rising and falling with each breath. _Don’t hide. Don’t be afraid._ “I don’t... “ That wasn’t true. “For the most part, I think.” That wasn’t true, either. She frowned. “Yes and no.”

“Are you…” He paused a moment, searching for the term. “... having second thoughts?”

He’d explained this term to her once. She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m not sure if I’m alright, Sven, but I’m not… I don’t regret anything.”

He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, her hair. He spoke carefully. “I know it didn’t end the way you wanted it to, but hearing that makes me happy.”

She nuzzled into him briefly, absently staring at the hair that covered his chest and the blanket that covered the rest of him. “I don’t know how I expected it to end,” she confessed. She wasn’t under the impression that one night would change everything, but she hadn’t expected her reaction to be quite so strong, either.

“Romelle…” Sven trailed his hand from her shoulder to her arm and back again. “I don’t know that we should _have_ expectations. I think the best thing is to continue to try.” He tilted her chin to meet his eyes, and she was surprised by how serious he was. “And you _must_ continue to talk to me. It’s the only way I’ll know if anything is wrong. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, or trigger something in your memory, or…” He was so insistent, so imploring. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me.”

He was haunted by something. She recognized that expression; it was the one he wore when he told her about events that had happened during his time in the caves on Doom. She splayed a hand on his chest and sat up a bit, looking at him. “Sven… what happened two nights ago?”

If he was surprised she asked, he didn’t show it, but he broke away from her gaze and stared at the ceiling. He sighed, holding her a bit tighter. She didn’t move. “You came to me and… I didn’t know what to do. You’d told me you were ready, you kissed me back, but… something didn’t seem right. I asked if you were okay and you said yes… it felt off, it felt strange, but I didn’t know if it was because of how you were handling it. You never told me to stop.” His brow slowly started to crease. “I wondered if that was what you needed - for me to keep going. Not to force you through it, of course, but if we managed to get through it…” He looked guilty, still not looking at her. “We finished.” He blanched. “ _We_ ,” he spat out, a terrible choice of words. “ _…_ I fin--” He sighed, frustrated, unsure how to continue. “It was over, and you didn’t move, you didn’t seem upset… I thought maybe you were absorbing everything. I went crazy wondering what you were thinking. You wouldn’t talk to me. Then the next morning you were gone and you looked at me like you were scared of me and I knew I’d done something wrong. You avoided me. But I decided we weren’t going to do this. We had to talk to each other.” He finally looked at her, drawing her closer, touching his forehead to hers. “I felt like I’d taken advantage of you.”

“Sven…” She badly wanted to comfort him, but she realized she didn’t know if she could. She understood the moral ground he was on, and to say he hadn’t done anything wrong… if she’d allowed herself to hide away, was it true? “No,” she said out loud. “I won’t see it that way. You’re a good man, Sven. You could never, _ever_ …” She swallowed, feeling tears come to her eyes. “I don’t care if there’s some psychological nonsense that says otherwise. I know _you_. I never would have gone to you if I’d thought… I wouldn’t even be near if you if I’d thought you capable of…” She kissed him, not knowing what else to do. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? We got a second chance. Whatever happened then doesn’t count. Right?”

Sven still looked rueful, but that didn’t stop him from gently caressing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Right.”

“Then last night counts. That’s all that matters. What happened…” She swallowed thickly, smiling at him. “... meant so, so much to me.”

The haze in his eyes cleared. Love shone within them, and she felt her spirits lift. “It did to me, too.”

“And…” Her smile turned slightly mischievous, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ll have a third chance to get better.”

“Yes, we will.” The acceptance that there’d _be_ another time made him smile softly. “And a fourth, just to be sure.”

“And a fifth. Practice makes perfect.”

His smile broadened. “We’d better make sure there’s more than ten, at least.”

“At _least_?”

“Yeah. I want to get good at this.”

She laughed. When she leaned down to kiss him again, he kissed back eagerly. “Maybe you shouldn’t limit yourself and take all the time you need.” She whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Challenge accepted.”

She held him tightly, listening to him breathe, feeling like she was floating. She was certain that they hadn’t faced their last obstacle in making love, and that there’d be many more times where they’d have to stop so she could collect herself. Regardless, she was confident in the man who held her heart as closely as he held her now. He would guide her, but let her lead, allow her to feel, but also to resist if she wanted. They would get there, be it their tenth chance or their twentieth or their one hundredth.

As many times as they’d need.


End file.
